


Hibernacula

by velvetglove



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-09
Updated: 2004-02-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetglove/pseuds/velvetglove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A third and final prequel for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/354728">Eidolon Helvum</a></p><p>A hibernacula is a place where bats roost and rest.  In this case, it's a state of mind and a stretch of time during which a boy becomes a Bat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hibernacula

In heavily-accented English, Janek informs Bruce of something he already knows, that he is an exceptional student, and Bruce thanks him for the compliment in passable Czech. Despite the honor, Bruce is disappointed in himself. He has been here for months; he should have earned the praise before now. 

Following the fencing lesson, he returns to the hotel. The concierge takes a folded piece of paper from the letter compartment tagged with his suite number and hands the message to him with a smile. Lex Luthor called.

He considers Lex his closest friend, but they see each other rarely. Now, Lex is flying in to Prague to stay a few days. When Bruce returned the call, Lex made it sound as though the proposed visit was nothing but a rich kid's whim, but Bruce knows better. Lex mentioned that he wouldn't be returning to Princeton in the fall, but stopped short of claiming that it was his own idea. 

He wants to ask Lex if he'd like to fence, but instead he'll mention his lessons and practice sessions in hope that Lex will suggest it himself. Bruce is far more skilled than Lex, but the challenge isn't the point. He just wants to face Lex in this way, formal but raw. He wants to offer something that will take the place of the words he can never put in correct order. 

Lex never asks about normal things; Lex knows that Bruce doesn't have normal things in his life. No questions about girlfriends, no questions about boyfriends, no questions about his plans for the future. He's going to be Bruce Wayne, of course, just as Lex will be Lex Luthor.

~~~

The skin around Lex's eyes looks bruised. Bruce suggests that he show Lex around the city, but Lex asks that he be allowed to nap a little while. 

Lex's suite is next to his, so Bruce picks the lock on the connecting door--he can always blame a faulty latch later--and slips inside. Heavy curtains drawn over dusty blinds, but slivers of white light stripe sheets and skin. Lex breathes deeply and silently, the heavy air barely stirring. Bruce holds his own breath and takes three soundless steps to stand at the side of the bed. Lex is bare-chested, and he's still as thin but more muscular than the last time Bruce saw him. 

Slowly, slowly, slowly. The bed creaks a little under Bruce's weight. Lex murmurs something in his sleep, but it's not Bruce's name. 

Bruce is bigger now, taller than Lex. He's grown so much these last few years that his bones ache at rest, when he stares at the ceiling in the dark. Lex should be afraid of him, but he's not. Lex has always refused to acknowledge that anyone--other than his own father--might be a threat. 

Lex should be afraid because Bruce knows things now, things he didn't know the last time he was close enough to Lex to touch. Lex's head lolls to the side, and Bruce could pinch hard, dig his fingers into the nerve plexus right _there_ , and Lex wouldn't be able to use his arm, not for a long while. Certainly, it would be time enough for Bruce to secure him. Convince him to see things differently. See Bruce differently.

Coming in low, tasting the thick air that lies close to Lex's skin, soap and sweat and a faint sourness after hours of travel. Bruce moves deeper and closer, synching his breathing with Lex's until the hairs high on his cheekbone, too fine and pale to shave, are all that cushion skin-from-skin at the back of Lex's shoulder. Lex makes a blurry sound in his sleep and twitches; Bruce's reflexes are fast enough to avoid the smack of contact. 

Hollow of Lex's throat where his thumbs would fit, pressing with all his weight on the stiff column of the trachea, fingers locked around the slender neck. Lex would thrash beneath him, arch up, his hips twisting against the backs of Bruce's thighs. Frantic hands clawing for purchase on sweaty skin. It could go on a long time. Lex would put up a good fight, and maybe that's all Bruce will ever get. 

Waiting to find equilibrium, he watches the vein at Lex's temple twitch with his pulse. Bruce counts the beats and when their hearts pump in tandem, he lets his hand fall lightly, lightly on Lex's skin. Lex sighs and moves into the touch, shoulder rolling under Bruce's palm. He's never felt skin like this before, at least not since the last time he touched _this_ skin. He can feel the blood leaving his head and limbs, leaving his core and swelling his cock. It would be easy to get carried away.  
Lex shifts onto his side with a contented purr, revealing a long curve of spine with a notch at the top, at the base of the skull. He wants to lick there, rub the head of his cock slick and wet in the hollow between the tendons. He holds his breath, but he can't even bring himself to touch the spot with his hand. 

Long exhale to steady himself as he thinks of pressure points and their effects. Ponders what it would take to hold a man still, what he has to work with. A belt around both wrists, arms behind the back, and another just above the elbows. One around each ankle, knotted over the wrist restraints with very little slack, knees up. Neckties would work even better. He can picture every detail. 

His mouth is dry. His cock feels hot and tight, but he can't touch himself, can't rut against the bed. He can't touch Lex or move against him for fear that he'll wake. Can't have what he wants without something irrevocable happening. 

He wonders what he might use for a gag. 

~~~

He rarely falls asleep in the presence of anyone, but he sleeps next to Lex. When he wakes, Lex is frowning down at him. "Bruce. What are you doing in here?"

"Napping." Lex looks dubious. "I've missed you," Bruce says. "And I was tired." 

Lex is still frowning, but he's also losing interest. It doesn't matter to him what Bruce is doing in his room. 

"Can I have some of that water?" He leans across Lex's body, reaching for the glass on the nightstand, fingers brushing over Lex's throat in passing. He considers pressure here, in the hollow, his full weight behind it. 

While he drinks, Lex yawns and stretches, ignoring him. Lex swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits up. "Hand me that robe, will you?" Bruce reaches for the hotel robe flung over the bedside chair. Lex stands, naked and marble-perfect but for a dark bruise on his ass, and shrugs it on. Bruce hates how casual Lex is with his body, not caring if Bruce sees it. He has no intention of fucking Bruce, not ever, or he wouldn't expose so much. 

Lex yawns again. "Do we have plans for dinner?"

~~~

Dressing for the restaurant, Bruce reaches for his belt and stops, staring at the gloss of crocodile hide. He loops the length around his hand and pulls it taut. Even as he tests the leather, he knows there's no use thinking about it. There's only so much Alfred can do to cover for him. 

Lex knocks on the doorframe and swaggers into the room. "Are you ready?"

"Almost. Give me a minute." Bruce perfects his Windsor knot.

Lex lets his breath out in a whoosh and falls back onto Bruce's bed. "Hurry up. I'm hungry."

Bruce looks at him, all laid out, and smiles. Lex's arms stretch loosely above his head, suit jacket bunched at his shoulders. His eyes look less bruised after his rest. 

Bruce slips his belt through the beltloops, busies himself with the buckle. 

"Come on, Bruce!" Lex urges. He sits up and tugs his jacket back into shape. "I'm _dying_ here." 

"No, you're not," Bruce admonishes. "Not really, Lex." 

Not figuratively, not otherwise, and definitely not here, so far from everything familiar. 

"When I get back to Gotham," Bruce suggests, as though it has just occurred to him, "you should come stay awhile."

"I might," Lex says. "It depends. Dad has a job he expects me to do."

"That won't last long," Bruce snorts. He shrugs into his coat, checks the pocket to make sure he has his key.

Lex just raises an eyebrow. "It's just possible," he says dryly, "that I'll succeed."

"But do you _want_ to?" 

Lex smirks. "Well, there is that. But who knows? I could have some sort of life-changing experience…"

And Bruce laughs for the same reason he thinks Lex laughs, because their poor-little-rich lives are already so twisted off true that one more change probably can't make a difference. Nothing can keep the nightmares at bay, or bring the dead back to life, or alter the way anyone feels. The experiences that change lives aren't _welcome_ , and they leave bloody, gaping holes. 

As they wait for the elevator, Bruce admires the shadowed curve of Lex's fragile skull and has to look away and clench his fists in his coat pocket, overcome with the sudden certainty that blunt trauma is a valid response to beauty. But the probable result is just the sort of life change he's trying to avoid.

Lex says something that Bruce doesn't catch but he nods agreement anyway and Lex smiles. There's a certain predictability to human interaction, and neither he nor Lex is unknowable. Bruce would like to be, though, and the fact that he isn't makes him want to hide his soft places, even though the damage has already been done and done again. 

It occurs to him, though not for the first time, that the worst happens and, once it starts, it never stops happening. And he and Lex are exactly who they've always had to be.

It's not hopeful, but for some reason, these thoughts comfort him.


End file.
